


house of memories.

by bluemccns



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Other, WHOS IN THE MOOD FOR SOME FLASHBACK SIBLING FLUFF, but fuck it, the game could update and totally make this entire thing void
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2019-01-16 04:57:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12335925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluemccns/pseuds/bluemccns
Summary: for her, he'll be anything.





	house of memories.

The patter of tiny feet on creaky floorboards resounds through the modest old house. Inside, a little girl toddles after her brother on chubby legs, huffing with the effort of keeping up with him.  
  
            “Ilya!” she scolds in her childish voice, “stop!”  
  
            The boy—who looks to be no older than twelve—throws her a glance over his shoulder before coming to a halt. The girl slams into his leg, wrapping short arms around his thigh and glaring up to where he’s got a ragdoll held high up in the air, farther than she could ever dream of reaching.  
  
            “Give it back,” she whines.  
  
            “Not so fast, Pasha,” he replies with a mischievous smirk, “I want to make a deal first.”  
  
            She reluctantly releases him, grumbling angrily and awaiting further instruction.  
  
            “If you want Elizaveta back, you have to promise not to tell Mama you saw me take that cookie.”  
  
            “But I already told her!” she cries.  
  
            His eyes go wide. “You  _what?_ ”  
  
            As if on cue, he hears his mother calling his name from the kitchen, and he takes off running in a fraction of a second, the doll still in his grasp and little sister in tow.  
  
            Their chase leads them outside. The air is chilled and bitter, biting the fair skin of both children during the pursuit. It’s clear that the boy has the upper hand, but the girl keeps chugging along, determined to catch up with him…until a foot catches on cobblestone and sends her plummeting toward the ground.  
  
            When he hears a high-pitched mewl of pain, the boy turns around to see her sitting on the ground with scraped knees and tears streaking freckled cheeks. He runs to her, kneeling and handing her the doll without hesitation.  
  
            “Are you alright?”  
  
            She sniffles and nods.  
  
            “Hold on, I’ve got you,” he says, then lifts her into his arms with ease. “Upsy-daisy.”  
  
            He carries her back inside, cautiously avoiding his mother and anymore trouble he could get into. They successfully make it to his room undetected, and he gently sets her down on his bed, then goes to rummage through one of his drawers.  
  
            “What are you doing?” she asks, having calmed down a bit.  
  
            “Looking for—ah—here it is.”  
  
            He settles on the edge of his bed beside her, then pops the cork from the vial in his hand. Noting the skeptical look in her eye, he sighs.  
  
            “Relax, Pasha. It’s just a little something to keep your cuts from getting infected. Mama showed me how to make it. You trust me, don’t you?”  
  
            When she takes a second to mull it over, he’s a little offended, but in the end, she nods in agreement.  
  
            “Good.”  
  
            He proceeds to spread a small amount of salve over each knee, then wrap them in bandages. When he’s done, he sets his materials aside and brushes some of the unruly red curls from where they obscure his sister’s face.  
  
            “There,” he says, and kisses her forehead. “Better?”  
  
            “Better,” she confirms, kicking her feet. “You’re good at this, Ilya.”  
  
            He can’t help the smile that follows.  
  
            “I’m going to cure entire cities someday,” he says confidently, standing to return his materials to their drawer.  
  
            “I wanna help!” she replies, hopping off the bed and shuffling to once again hug his leg.  
  
            “Of course you can, Pasha.”  
  
            And just like that, the moment is over, called to a close by their mother calling his name once again and the two of them taking off in opposite directions. Before rounding the corner into the living room, he watches her with fondness reflected in hazel eyes as she scampers down the hallway.  
  
             _I may or may not be a hero one day,_ he thinks,  _but I’m glad I could be one for you._  
 


End file.
